


Dance of Petals

by youreyestheyglow



Series: The Asshat Chronicles [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: BroJohn - Freeform, F/F, Fathertime, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Proposals, gotta stay true to the original purpose, rosemary, there'll probably be smut in here at some point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-02-23 07:21:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2539202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youreyestheyglow/pseuds/youreyestheyglow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave's first movie is premiering in New York, Dave and Bro both bought rings, lots of fluff and presumably some smut at some point</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Brojohn feels hit me really hard the other day and between that and the gigapause ending I felt like writing more of this series it feels really weird to pick this up again after so many months wow  
> also warning I'm not sure how often this'll update? November's a hard month for me and I've got 3 papers a week to do so   
> I don't think this is gonna be really lengthy anyway though  
> I hope you enjoy it!

John’s laughing at you.

It’s not _your_ fault Dave invited you to the damn SBAHJ premier. You’d have been pretty much ok with just waiting for the thing to come out on cable. Hell, you’d have pirated it. Would’ve been ironic as fuck.

But no, “my bro has to come, dude, you’ve gotta come, you don’t have a choice, it’s my first movie, there’s a shitton of hype about it – Mr. Strider and Mr. Egbert and Mr. Strider and Mr. Egbert, it would be great, you’ve gotta be there –” so you gave in and bought a suit. With John’s help. Egbert had offered, but you can’t imagine going up to New York to buy a suit you’re gonna wear once, so you’d forced John to dredge up what little knowledge he had of suits and decided it was good enough. You don’t give a shit about different cuts, as long as it’s not hideous.

You’re standing in front of a mirror in your first and only suit, trying to figure out if it’s flexible enough and big enough for you to get down on one knee.

 And John is laughing at you.

“You’ve gotta wear a suit too, y’know,” you remind him.

He sobers up instantly. “I don’t look as uncomfortable in mine as you do in yours, though.”

You grimace. He’s got a point. “Maybe I should just go in my usual –”

“Nope,” he says, popping the _p_. “We’re gonna look like a hot-ass family.”

“I’m always hot.”

He grins. “Yeah, but _suits_.”

You sigh. You’d like to argue, but then he’d insist on not wearing his own suit, and his ass in those pants is _godly_.

You pull the thing off, fold it carefully, around the pocket with the little box in it, and stick it in the bottom of your suitcase.

“Why were you trying it on?” John asks, trailing his fingers along the waistband of your boxers.

Jesus. “Trying to figure out if there’s any way to make that thing look _good_.”

John kisses your shoulder blade. “Nope. You’ve gotta go naked.”

I grin. “Dave would love that.”

He groans. “Seriously? Quickest turnoff in the _entire universe_ is Dave.”

“Really? I thought it was your dad?”

He whacks your arm. “You suck.”

“You’re the one dating me,” you remind him cheerfully as you tug on pants. “I thought you said you were gonna start packing?”

“Yeah, but then I walked in and found you standing here in a suit,” he says, like that explains everything.

“Not in a suit anymore.”

“Still don’t wanna pack,” he whines. “Dirk, can –”

“I’m not packing for you.”

He pouts at you. It’s still adorable, even though he’s closer to 30 than 20 now. “Roxy’ll do it for me!”

“You won’t like the end product,” you warn him, and he groans.

“I know. I know.”

He begins dumping articles of clothing into his suitcase, one at a time, unfolded.

A while ago, you might’ve given in, packed for him.

A while ago.

Not anymore, though. You know better now.

Two minutes later, you’re folding the clothing he’s dumped in there, while he hangs on you, all smiles and kisses and thanks.

“This is the last time,” you tell him. “This is it. Never again.”

He kisses your cheek. “Got it.”

Roxy walks in just after you’ve zipped John’s suitcase closed.

“Wow, Johnny’s packed already? Dammit! Don’t tell –”

Rose appears behind her. “I believe you owe me,” she says, a pleasant smile on her face as she holds a hand out.

Roxy pulls a ten out of her pocket and hands it over. “It’s your fault I’m ten bucks poorer, why couldn’t you have held off for a little while, really Johnny really –”

Rose pats your shoulder as Roxy goes off on John. “Good to see you haven’t stopped packing his suitcase for him. Don’t tell Roxy.”

“Got it.”

An hour later, you’re packed and ready to go, and Roxy’s yelling at you for leaving packing to the last minute. You’re pretty sure she doesn’t actually care – it’s more likely that she’s annoyed you didn’t pack before John. She didn’t get here an hour and a half early because you _need_ extra time.

It turns out you _do_ need extra time, though – Roxy and Rose aren’t as intimately acquainted with the airport as you and John are. Five years of flying up to New York and back down means that when you get in line for security, you’re already half-out of your shoes and you’ve got all your electronics in a bucket before the TSA guys can hand you one. Roxy and Rose, on the other hand, aren’t half as coordinated, and it takes them a minute to get all their shit sorted out.

“Wow, Roxy, I can’t believe you’re taking so long –”

“Shut it, Johnny –”

Ten minutes later, you’re all through security.

“Y’know, Johnny, that sweatshirt is technically mine, since I gave it to Dirky, so you really can’t –”

“Dirk’s the one who gave it to me, so actually –”

“You stole it, if I remember correctly,” you interrupt.

Roxy grins. John mopes. You have silence for the five minutes it takes you all to get from security to the lounge reserved for platinum members of American Airlines.

Flying up to New York multiple times a year has its perks.

“Mr. Strider, Mr. Egbert,” the lady says as she swipes your platinum cards. You’re pretty sure her name is Christine. You’ve been through here a good few times in the past five years, and she’s been working here the whole damn time. You hope she’s gotten a couple raises. “Ms. Lalonde. Ms. Lalonde.”

Roxy ruffles your hair as she strides past you towards the coffee. “Platinum membership, Dirky, I love you.”

John passes out on your shoulder the minute you sit down. You think it’s practically a Pavlovian response by now – enter lounge, pass right the fuck out. It’s probably your fault, honestly. You like early morning flights. John would rather sleep through the whole morning and into the afternoon and get into NY at five in the evening, just in time for dinner. You were nice to him with this flight, honestly. It’s a one o’clock. Didn’t even have to leave until 10.

Roxy’s snoring next to you by the time you decide you should probably walk down to the gate. There aren’t any delays, and the plane’s supposed to start boarding in half an hour.

“Up and at ‘em, Rox,” you say as you nudge her. “John, time to go.”

You’re pretty sure they both manage to sleepwalk to the gate before finding the only two open seats and collapsing into them.

“Is this what it’s like, caring for a child?” Rose asks as we stare down at the two sleeping children.

“Yes.”

“Thank god I’m a lesbian.”

“Seconded.”

She smiles.

“Kanaya’s meeting us there, right?”

“Yes. I’ve informed her that our plane should be on time, but I’m sure she’s been checking all day. She will be there to pick us up.”

“I thought Egbert was picking us up?”

“We can’t all fit comfortably in his car, even if Dave _doesn’t_ come, which I sincerely doubt will be the case.”

“Good point. I guess you and Rox’ll go in her car?”

“That was the plan.”

“But you’d like to squeeze Roxy in with us so you and Kanaya can have the trip home to yourselves.”

“That was our plan.”

I tip my head to one side, sighing as my neck cracks. “She’ll want to come with us anyway. It’s been a while since she’s seen Dave and Egbert.”

“I was hoping things would work out that way.”

“ _Flight 2847 will begin boarding in five minutes. First class passengers first, please…”_

You resist the urge to kick John and Rox. Rose does not.

“Time to board!” She says cheerfully as she dodges Roxy’s return kick.

“So, Dirky, do you think Jaimie’s gonna pick us up in his nice car?”

“Yeah, Dave’s car’s too small.”

She grimaces. “I sat in the back of that Camaro once. _Never. Again._ ”

“Yes ma’am.”

“ _Ma’am_. Listen to you. Southern manners finally wearing off on ya.”

I shudder. “John, we’re moving back up North.”

“Yeah, we could live above Dave and my dad!” he says excitedly.

“ _Not_ what I was going for.”

“Let’s stay down South.”

“Really? You don’t want a farm? We could milk cows all day –”

“ _No_.”

You pass the lady your ticket and your passport. She scans it and hands it back. John doesn’t let go of your hand. You have to stand there while she scans his ticket, too.

“We should go, quick, before they get through – oh, damn, we missed our window,” John sighs as Roxy thanks the lady and follows us into the tunnel-thing that leads to the plane.

“Where were we gonna go? To our seats? Where they’ll be joining us _anyway_?”

He glares at you.

You kiss his nose.

He scrunches his whole face up.

Christ, he’s adorable.

Your favorite thing about planes is that you never get the same stewardesses twice. There’s no pressure to remember names or exchange anything past pleasantries.

John falls asleep pretty quickly, hugging your arm. You pull his glasses off so they don’t get bent weird. Roxy’s drooling on Rose’s shoulder before you even take off. You’d wake Roxy up, but honestly, you don’t wanna deprive Rose of this sister bonding time. She looks overjoyed about it.

John wakes up around the second time the stewardess comes around with drinks.

“Staring at my jaw?” You murmur. Can’t wake Roxy.

“T’s the only thing I can see properly,” he mumbles.

You slide his glasses on, and his electric blue eyes focus on you. He grins when you kiss him. Your arm’s half dead from him hugging it, but you lift it anyway, like it’s a really heavy goddamn worm attached to your shoulder, and sling it around John’s shoulder. He wiggles closer to you, totally cool with the fact that he’s essentially in your armpit.

“Did you remember to turn off the Keurig?” He asks.

“Yeah. I think.”

He frowns. “Shit.”

“Eh, it won’t use much electricity if it’s just sitting there. And I don’t think it’ll burn the place down.”

“You don’t _think_.”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Is that sure enough?”

“I hope so.”

He sighs. “If the house burns down, it’s your fault.”

“Okay.”

He steals your coke and drinks half of it.

“Asshole.”

“Butcha love me,” he sings.

“Shh, don’t wake Roxy up.”

Rose snorts. “She wouldn’t wake up if the damn plane crashed.”

“Don’t jinx it.”

“We’ll drown in her drool first, don’t worry.”

“ _Don’t jinx it._ ”

Rose rolls her eyes. “I’d say knock on wood, but there isn’t any.”

John scans your immediate area. He slumps into you when he realizes she’s right. “Damn.”

You rub his shoulder comfortingly.

The plane doesn’t crash and you don’t drown in Roxy’s drool. You’re pretty sure Rose is gonna kill Roxy, but hey, as long as she waits til you get out of the airport.

The moment you get off the plane, though, you realize Roxy’s safe. Rose is checking her phone too often to care about Roxy.

“Rox, you’re riding with us, right?”

“I thought I was –”

“No, you’re coming with us, right?” You throw a pointed glance at Rose, and she catches on.

“ _Oh_. Yeah, I guess I am. Tell Jaimie to get his little butt over here, I’m hungry.”

John makes a face. “That’s my _dad_.”

“Yeah, and he’s a good cook!” Roxy protests.

“I don’t think that’s what he’s worried about.”

“Oh. Well, he does have a little butt.”

You slap your hand over Roxy’s mouth. “Shh.”

John’s phone rings as you grab his suitcase off the luggage carousel.

“Hey, dad… yeah… yeah… yeah… yup… yes… no… yeah…”

It goes on for a couple more minutes before John hangs up and informs us that Egbert and Kanaya are pulling around now.

Rose’s suitcase is the last piece of luggage you need, and she practically runs out of the airport once she’s got it.

“Aw. She’s cute.” Roxy says with a grin.

You find her in Kanaya’s arms outside the airport.

“Dirk. John. Roxy.”

“Hey, Kanaya.”

“Hi, Kanny!”

“Hi, Kanaya.”

John’s dad steps out of his car, but you don’t even see him. It’s just Dave, in front of your face and giving you a bear hug, and it’s sappy as hell and you don’t even care. By the end of your week here, you’ll be perfectly happy to return to the other side of the country, and he’ll be totally cool with letting you go. But right now, he’s your little brother, and you haven’t seen him in three months, and he’s made _Strider_ into a household name.

Of course, he’s currently dragging it through the mud by wearing pants so baggy you could fit a second person in them, but hey, whatever.

He lets go of you and gives John a hug. You and Egbert nod at each other. You’re not sure what would have to happen to get you and Egbert to hug, but it hasn’t happened yet.

Rose and Kanaya take off before Dave’s even hugged Roxy.

“I was under the impression that Roxy would be going in their car?” Egbert asks as they disappear around the corner.

“Haven’t seen each other in a week.”

Egbert nods understandingly. You pretend not to see his eyes move to my brother.

Kanaya’s a fashion designer. She runs the Austin branch of this particular store, but every so often, she has to come up to the headquarters in New York. Dave’s got the same problem: he might be able to film his movie in New York, but it’s hard to leave Hollywood out of the process. He’s been up in California, recently. The only reason the premiere is in NYC instead of LA is because Dave convinced everyone it would be ironic, it would be weird, it would draw attention. He was right, too. You’ve seen the list of people expected to attend. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are supposed to be there. They’re not even in the damn movie.

You pack into Egbert’s car, and, somehow, you end up in the middle seat. You’re not the smallest one here. You’re the _biggest_ one here. Why the _hell_ are you sitting in the tiniest seat in the damn car? Thank god you’re squished between John and Roxy. They already know you too well for this to be awkward.

At least Roxy keeps the conversation going. There ain’t a single awkward silence the whole ride home. Dave helps her, but it sounds – off. _He_ sounds off. Probably just nervous about the premier.  

Rose and Kanaya are already in the driveway when you pull up.

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long?” Egbert asks courteously as you shove his son out of the car and out of your way.

“Not at all, Mr. Egbert,” Kanaya answers pleasantly.

John shoves you back towards the car.

“Ah, good. I tried to leave as quickly as I could after you did, but I tend to do the speed limit, which I doubt is among your many fine habits.”

You punch towards his stomach. He blocks it, but jumps back, nearly impaling himself on a rosebush.

“No, I generally prefer not to hold back traffic.”

He tries to shove you back inside the car, pushing you like a linebacker.

“Yes, that seems to be a genuine concern among many of the younger generation. My generation tends to stick to traffic laws, however. Better safe than sorry. Ladies first. John, Mr. Strider, are you coming inside?”

You’ve got John in a headlock, and it takes a second to register that the words were aimed at you. “Oh. Yeah. Course.”

He stands at the door and waits as you release John, who straightens and swipes at you, heading swiftly for the door and his dad and safety, grinning at you over his shoulder. You resist the urge to swat his ass as you walk past his father’s carefully controlled gaze. John’s butt hasn’t gotten any less perfect in all the years you’ve been dating him.

Roxy’s dropped her bag on the couch and made herself comfortable. You’d say she lost the fight over the guest room, but that would imply that there had been an argument at all, and you’re pretty damn sure Rose just stared her down until she acquiesced. Poor woman. Squished into Egbert’s car and forced onto the couch.

Dave grabs John’s bag. “I’m bringing your shit upstairs, ok dude?”

“Yeah, cool, any heavy lifting I don’t have to do is ok with me.”

Dave’s already halfway up the stairs. “Bro? You coming?”

“Course,” you reassure him as you start up after him. It’s practically become a tradition. You and Dave head upstairs for some brotherly bonding time, John stays downstairs with his dad for some father-son bonding time. You guess it saves Dave from looking uncool. “So how’s – what’s wrong?”

Dave’s staring at the ground. Never a good sign.

“Uh. Well, really, it’s no big deal, like who even really cares, like what even _is_ marriage anyway –”

“Marriage?” You ask sharply.

“Shh, shh, shut it Bro, he doesn’t know, and honestly, I don’t know how he’ll react –”

“What?”

Dave digs into his pocket and pulls out a box.

Well, that explains the baggy pants. Hard to hide that in a pair of skinny jeans.

“So I bought this a week or two ago but I don’t know if he’ll like it, and also I don’t know if he’ll be comfortable with _me_ proposing to _him_ , he’s a little old-fashioned and would probably wanna propose cause he’s weird like that, and also it would kinda make me John’s step-dad or something like that so I think I’d be your father-in-law or something not like I put a lot of thought into it but I mean – why are you turning away, I know I said I wouldn’t get married to him but – Bro, I swear I –”

You grin at him. “Calm _down_ , christ. Gimme a second.”

You can hear him shuffling around behind you as you unzip your bag and dig down to the bottom until you find your suit pants.

When you straighten up, you’ve got the tiny delicate little box in your hands.

Dave gapes at you.

“Switch?”

You switch boxes.

Dave got Egbert a nice-ass ring. You’re pretty sure the band is platinum. The stone is grey, you’ve got no idea what kind of rock that is, but it’s small and unobtrusive and you think Egbert’ll like it just fine.

“Dude, is this the same color as John’s eyes, you’re such a fucking sap –”

“Shh, not so loud, they won’t stay downstairs forever,” you remind him.

His eyes dart towards the door, still ajar, and he grabs the box out of your hand. It’s back in his pocket and your box is back in your suit pocket and you and Dave are staring at each other.

“When are you gonna do it?”

“Not a clue. I’ve had it for three weeks.”

Dave snickers. “I’ve only had it for one, at least I don’t put shit off like you do –”

“Dave, Dirk, are you –”

You fall silent as John skids into the room.

He narrows his eyes at you.

He knows something’s up. He knows you well enough by now to know when you’re hiding something.

He sidles over to you and throws an arm around your shoulders, apparently ignoring the fact that you’re several inches taller than he is. “What’s up?”

“John that was the dumbest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do what was the purpose of that we can’t be friends anymore if you’re gonna pull shit like that like wow what even was that was that some attempt at being cool because it’s pointless I’m cooler than you’ll ever be so –”

“It was _not_ and I am at least as cool as you are if not more I’ll have you know I am a famous youtuber and I –”

“I’m a famous writer-slash-director-slash-producer so I do more stuff than you so I’m better than you so really it’s just –”

“John, David, are you planning on squabbling all day?” Egbert asks impatiently from his place in the doorway. You hadn’t even heard him coming. Incredible.

It silences them quickly enough.

You can practically feel Dave glance at you as he turns to follow Egbert out of the room. Your conversation isn’t over. Can’t have one of you popping the question long before the other. Gotta get the timing right. Gotta talk about this more.

Gonna be an issue getting time alone, though.

Maybe you’ll just text him.

John usually reads your texts, though. It’s never been a problem before. But now –

John glances at you over his shoulder when you sigh, his eyebrows pulled together. You grab his upper arm to prevent him from tripping down the stairs.

Gonna have to do it soon, you suppose. He knows something’s up. And if Egbert knows Dave as well as you do, he’ll be seeing the signs – the fidgeting, lack of eye contact, tense rambling – Egbert’s gonna take Dave to a therapist if Dave keeps going like this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smutsmutsmutsmutsmut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took two weeks and it's short and plotless there'll be plot in the next chapter kinda I think

Dinner is, as usual, pot roast. Apparently, you can leave pot roast in a crockpot for hours, so Egbert can just stuff it in before he leaves to pick you up for the airport, and it’s ready by the time you get back. It’s amazing. This is now the seventeenth time it’s made you consider investing in a crockpot. You’ve kept count.

You and Dave spend the whole entire dinner awkwardly trying to communicate through your shades. You have no idea what he’s trying to tell you, and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t know that you’re trying to tell him that you don’t know what he’s trying to tell you, but you keep trying anyway.

John’s suspicious.

He’s conspicuously absent from the room most of the evening. You _know_ it’s not just you being paranoid when Dave frowns, looks around, and asks where John is. Dave’s never been the most perceptive kid. If he’s noticing it, something’s up.

You decide to be kind and not tell everyone that John’s probably standing outside the doorway, waiting for someone to say something incriminating.

He bounces in after about half an hour anyway, saying he passed out upstairs, whoops, and slides into your lap. You rest your head between his shoulder blades. You think you might’ve actually created a dip in his back at this point, precisely the shape of your forehead.

He must be seriously concerned, cause he doesn’t even get up to help pick a movie.

He’s gonna flip his shit when you propose.

Or say no.

But you’re more inclined to think he’ll flip his shit.

You end up watching some horror movie that John doesn’t like; he curls up against you and holds one of your arms over his face, ducking under it whenever Samara’s mentioned. It’s cute as all hell.

“We watched the video,” he gripes as you head up to bed. “We’ve got _seven days_ , Dirk. _Seven_.”

“I don’t know about you, but _I_ didn’t watch the thing, and I don’t think _you_ watched the thing, so really, I think it’s Dave and your dad who are fucked.”

“Hey, I saw it through my shades, like in Harry Potter y’know, when they see the basilisk, if they see it through something they’re all cool, so I think I’m gonna be fine, and it’s James who’s gonna get screwed over in the end –”

“I believe you have to get scared to death, David, and I assume my knight in shining armor will be around the corner to save me before I have to look at her –”

“Okay, hold on, hold up, maybe it’s smarter if we just – destroy all TVs, like, where the hell would she come from then –”

“Laptop screens?” I suggest.

“Phone screens?” John offers.

“Straight out of your shades?” Egbert asks innocently, almost smiling when Dave looks at him, horror plastered all over his face.

“Why would you _say that_ –”

He’s still yelling when you shut John’s door behind you.

John slides his hands under your shirt.

“Hi,” you say, twisting so you can see him out of the corner of your eye.

He tugs you backwards.

You twist in his arms.

He grins up at you as he takes your shades and drops them somewhere.

One of you is gonna step on those, later.

His face is already at the proper angle so when you tilt your head down, your lips slot perfectly against his, into a position you know pretty damn well. You run your hands up the familiar lines of his sides, lines that change with every meal he eats but it doesn’t matter, you know them better than you know your own damn body. Your fingers tap out a rhythm on his ribcage, and slide down to his hips as you gently push him back onto his bed.

You sincerely hope Egbert and Dave never remodel this room. They might look in the bedside table, and yes, you know they know you and John have sex, but the physical evidence of condoms and lube might be too much.

John wiggles out of his pants, getting them down to his knees before he looks up at you. “What, not helping?”

You grin. “Too busy watching you squirm around.”

He cocks one eyebrow at you. “Give it twenty minutes and I won’t be the only one squirming around.”

“John, that was an awful comeback.” You drag his pants off and toss them into a corner.

“It was _great_ ok, I am fucking incredible at – _oh_ ,” he cuts himself off as you run your thumb over the bulge in his underwear.

“You are fucking incredible at?” You prompt as you kneel on the bed, your knee pressed against his dick.

“Everything, _Dirk –_ ” He grabs at your arm as you lean over him, your thigh pressing against his length. You can _feel_ him getting hard like this.

“You’re incredible at everything Dirk? What does that mean?”

He sneaks his hand down to unbutton your pants and trace the line of hair from your pant line to your belly button, grinning when you lose your breath. You press your lips to his, and he snakes his hands around your neck, clinging to you for all he’s worth as you drown in the familiar taste of him.

You slide his underwear off, letting his half-chub spring free, and help him slide further up the bed, scooching him around so his head is on the pillow. He reaches for you and tugs at the hem of your shirt, grinning when you let him pull it over your head. You stretch down for a kiss. His fingers graze over your skin, tracing muscle and bone, tapping over scars. Sliding down to unzip your pants and sneak his hands inside your boxers.

He lets go of you so you can stand and pull your pants off, taking the opportunity to pull his own shirt off, but the second clothing is no longer an obstacle he’s reaching for you, tugging you back down, nearly making you spill lube all over his damn stomach, clamping his legs around you like he’s scared you’re going to leave.

“John, I literally cannot get my fingers down there –” He lets up instantly, and – is he – blushing? You’ve done things to this kid that would probably drive a Catholic to confession, but talk about fingering him and he starts blushing.

It’s cute.

You finger him open slowly, even if it’s not necessary. You like seeing his dick twitch when you hit his prostate _just right_. He tends to run his fingers through your hair when you finger him, too, which you’re totally okay with. _Especially_ since he tugs a little every so often.

You lean down and nip at his neck and he’s gasping, and it makes you wonder how much he’s been thinking about this today, how long he’s been waiting for this – you’ve been working all week, trying to get ahead before you left for the week, and you forgot to pay as much attention to John as you should – and you’d been nervous about the ring – you kiss him, softly, but he’s not having that, he holds your face in place as he licks into your mouth, and he only pulls back to tell you to _put it in, Dirk, Jesus Christ –_ and you have to pull back for a second, gotta put a condom on, and he allows that, eyes roaming over your body as you roll the condom down. He passes you the lube, grinning at you lazily as you kneel in front of him, propping his hips up as you stroke yourself, watching you with his gorgeous blue eyes as you line yourself up.

He keeps eye contact with you as you slide inside him. Even as his breathing gets heavy, even as he contracts around you, even though you slide in a centimeter at a time, he keeps eye contact with you.

Holy shit.

When you bottom out, he reaches for you, and you’re already going for his lips, and you meet somewhere in the middle, and you push him back down so he doesn’t have to hold himself half a foot above the bed. He pulls you with him, wrapping his arms around your neck, holding you there, rolling his hips against you so _perfectly_ you almost wanna cry. He sets the pace and it’s a slow one, careful, grinding, _burning_ , and you can’t _breathe_ it’s so slow, and he’s so damn _perfect_ his whole _body_ is perfect, he’s pressed up tight against you and rolling his hips against you and his legs are wrapped around you so tightly he’s gonna leave bruises.

“You’re so perfect, John,” You whisper against his lips.

He grins, the little shithead, but his fingers curl softly against your neck. You can feel his smile when you kiss him.

He doesn’t break rhythm once.

He’s got more self-control than you’ve ever had.

He’s pulled away from your mouth so he can shove his face into your shoulder, muffling his moans in your skin, nails digging into your back, tiny little sparks of pain that just make you shiver as you groan into his hair. _Quiet, quiet, quiet. Gotta be quiet_. He manages better than you do, stifling tiny throaty cries in your skin as he tenses around you, his body bucking against yours, nails digging in so hard you’re gonna have to get them surgically removed, and it’s _perfect_. Your orgasm builds so fast it takes you by surprise, and you groan as your world flashes white, arms shaking, legs shaking, everything shaking, a tiny earthquake wrecking your body.

You pull out slow, overly conscious of the way John’s face twists a little when you slide out.

You tie off the condom and drop it in the trash. You’re not worried about anyone seeing it. You and Dave have an arrangement: whenever one of you stays at the other’s house, you take out your own damn trash. It helps keep the illusion that no one knows what anyone else is doing.

John’s stretching for the box of tissues, but you don’t really think he’s trying, and you’re pretty sure he knows you know he’s not trying. He likes it when you clean him off, and you’re not gonna lie, you like wiping him down too, noting the tiny spasms that go through his body when you touch him.

He falls asleep facing you, one arm looped around your neck, breath warm against your chest.

He’s warm and soft and he fits in your arms and you’re a fucking sap about it and you don’t even care.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Premier time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus christ it's november 29th already time is false

Kanaya wakes you up, the next morning. Before your alarm even goes off. _Asshat_.

“Rise and shine, boys! Dave has informed me that neither of you know what to do with a suit. Do either of you need to wash yourself?”

You blink blearily at her while John pulls your arm over his face and groans. “What?”

Her nostrils flare as she sighs. “Dirk, go shower. I can do _nothing_ with your hair unless it’s wet. John, I can work with you.”

“What?”

Dave’s face appears above Kanaya’s. “Are they up yet? I _knew_ they should’ve flown in two days before the premiere, I knew they’d still be stupid tired –”

You roll over and stare at the clock until the numbers make sense. “Dave, it’s _six in the damn morning._ ”

“What? Yeah, you’ve gotta shower and Kanaya’s gotta make you both presentable, it’s hard work –”

“Since when do you get up at six?”

“Since today, Bro, get with the program, it’s time to get the fuck up and out like a goddamn _adult_.”

You roll your eyes. “Shit, lil bro, you could’ve at least _warned_ me or something.” You go to roll over and out of bed like a goddamn adult, but John grabs your arm.

“Might not wanna do that,” he slurs tiredly.

“John, he has to get in the shower –” Kanaya begins, but John interrupts.

“He is _ass-fucking-naked_.”

Oh yeah.

You can hear Roxy laughing from downstairs.

Dave disappears. You have the weirdest feeling he’s trying to throw himself off the face of the planet.

Kanaya just shuts the door.

“Ass-fucking-naked. Was the word choice on purpose, or?”

“Nope,” he says happily.

You snicker as you slide out of bed. “Come on, love, time to get up and reasonably presentable.”

He smiles at you dazedly from between the sheets, hair a wreck, and it’s so fucking _cute_ you crawl back onto the bed so you can kiss him, morning breath be damned.

John struggles into pajama pants – “’M not eating breakfast in my suit –” so you don’t feel remotely guilty about doing the same, cause fuck being in a suit at 6 A.M. It’s just not your style.

Not that suits are your style at all, of course. But still.

The two of you follow your noses into the kitchen, where Egbert is expertly sliding bacon onto a plate – already in his nicest pants and dress shirt – and Dave is expertly avoiding your gaze.

“You do not appear to have showered,” Kanaya says pointedly. Rose doesn’t look up from the mug of tea in her hands, which she appears to be dipping her nose in. Or she’s just falling asleep in it. Roxy’s copying her sister exactly, but you smell coffee when you pass her instead of tea.

“Not eating bacon in a suit, Kanny.”

She makes a face, but doesn’t object. Actually, the face might be in response to the nickname, not the excuse. You’re not sure.

Regardless, Egbert hands you and John plates of bacon and eggs. He’s alert, wide-awake, and you can’t tell if it’s nerves, excitement, or just age letting him get up at fuck-life-o’clock. You _wish_ you could get to that point in your life where you pass out at 8 in the evening and wake up at 3 in the morning, but you’re barely off a college kid’s sleep schedule.

Under Kanaya’s watchful gaze, you shovel down your breakfast and head upstairs to shower. You’ve been in there for two minutes when the door opens.

“Uh, hey, I’m in here,” you inform whichever asshole decided to let cold air in the room.

“T’s me,” John says, shutting the door behind him.

I pull the shower curtain open. “Get in quick, it’s fuckin cold out there.”

He complies, tossing his pants who-knows-where and climbing in. He clings to you as you shut the curtain again, cold and shaking with tiredness. You pull him back under the jet of water, rubbing his back gently until he stops shaking before you bother reaching for the shampoo. You feel his lips twitch up into a smile against your skin as you scrub his hair. He helpfully tilts his head back when it’s time to scrub it out, laughing at the triple chin you’ve given yourself, holding your mouth away from his soapy hair. He returns his head to the top of your chest when you grab the conditioner, sighing when you run your fingers through his hair, letting you tug his head back to wash the conditioner out. Before you’ve even gotten it all out, he’s removing his arms from their death grip around your waist and dumping shampoo in his hands, kneading it into your hair like he’s a friggin cat. He tugs you around so your hair is under the water and holds you there, rubbing conditioner in your hair like a professional.

There’s only one sponge, and the two of you pass it back and forth like it’s a hot potato, swiping at his stomach and your chest and his arm and your leg. He smooshes it between your stomachs so he can kiss you.

“Should probably get out now,” you murmur as soap cascades down your leg. “Kanaya’s gonna be banging on the door soon.”

John grimaces but acquiesces, hanging the sponge on the tap and shutting it off. You whip the shower curtain open, hissing as the cold air hits your skin, tossing a towel at John as you grab one for yourself.

After one sprint to the bedroom and four struggle-filled minutes of trying to get pants on with wet skin, you present yourselves to Kanaya. She looks horrified at your suit, but John gets a nod of almost-approval. He gets passed off to Rose, who waits with a comb and a can of hairspray.

You, though, you get Kanaya. And Kanaya ain’t happy with _anything_ you’re doing.

So when John sits in front of you, looking mouth-wateringly handsome with neatly combed hair with a tiny curl that Rose couldn’t straighten out and a well-fitted tux – he got _his_ fitted with no trouble – you’re still sitting in front of a pissed-off Kanaya, wielding a bottle of gel like a knife and a comb like a mildly more painful knife.

“Lookin’ good,” he says with a grin that says he’s enjoying your discomfort just as much as your growing handsomeness.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t move,” Kanaya snaps.

You sigh.

“I said _don’t move_ ,” she says with more annoyance than you realized a sigh could elicit.

John snickers at you.

You glare at him. He gets the full force of it – Kanaya decided your shades were in the way.

He laughs.

You glare harder.

He’s laughing too hard, bent over with his glasses in one hand and his face in the other. He doesn’t see.

If you come out of this with a combover you’re changing it to a damn mohawk.  

But you don’t. You come out of it with some seriously dashing swishy-spikey ‘do that makes you look weirdly rugged in spite of having never once entered the wilderness, and with some expertly-placed safety pins and an orange tie Kanaya just _happened_ to have lying around, you look fucking _good_.

John stops laughing.

You’re beginning to feel good about this whole thing. John’s looking at you like you’ve descended directly from heaven specifically for him and you’re sincerely considering dressing like this on a regular basis.

Dave looks like he’s about to puke, though.

Poor kid.

The limo picks you up at precisely 10:09, and you spend a full ten minutes making fun of Dave for not yet having a permanent chauffeur before Egbert quietly inserts himself into the conversation with a “Yes, he does. Why do you think he loves me so much?” Prompting a stammering contradiction on Dave’s part, which you all ignore because there’s only so much sappiness a person can handle. Roxy appears to be sincerely contemplating throwing herself out of the car at one point, but you throw your arm around her shoulders and the two of you lead the car in a rousing rendition of “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall” until Dave tells you to shut the fuck up. He looks infinitely more annoyed than nervous, though, so you consider your job done.

The premiere starts at 1. You pull up at 12.

There is a goddamn red carpet out.

“I get to walk the red carpet,” John mutters.

“Yup.”

Dave looks like he’s gonna puke again.

You displace John in favor of sitting shoulder to shoulder with your brother.

“Chin up, kid, what’re they gonna do?”

“Eat me alive,” he mutters. And then he’s gone, sliding out of the limo, all long limbs and confidence.

Cameras flash and you’re following him, and you _know_ you make a striking picture, you _know_ that picture is gonna be in every review of the movie. You are Striders, and you’re sure as hell gonna look like it.

John appears at your side and Egbert finds Dave. They take the lead, not holding hands, just looking straight ahead like they can’t even see the fans or the paparazzi. You grab John’s hand, though. Or he grabs yours. Regardless, you’re holding hands as you follow Dave and Egbert down the aisle, and god _damn_ your thoughts are turning matrimonial. _Hey Egbert I’d like to ask for your son’s hand in marriage could you walk him down the aisle towards me please he can even wear a veil if he wants I don’t care._

John gets nearly as many cheers as Dave does – you’re not sure how many subscribers he’s got on youtube, but it’s a damn big number and you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s got fans in the crowd.

Kanny and Rose follow you, and Kanny gets _shrieks_ from some women, most of whom appear to be wearing one of her dresses.

There’s a swoop in your stomach as you realize you left Roxy to come out last, alone.

There’s a pause, and then –

“Roxy La _londe_!” and you remember that she’s done a fair bit of work with special effects and camera tricks and that anyone here who’s worked in production or film has probably seen her name and she’s getting some serious recognition and you glance over your shoulder and see her signing some guy’s hat. The woman is your goddamn role model.

Dave gets stopped for an interview, and you hear him grunting replies at some poor reporter.

No one approaches you, although Roxy has at least three people asking her questions. She winks at you, but doesn’t stop talking.

It’s only when Dave has finished his interview that the interviewer approaches you and you realize she’s from the goddamn Rolling Stone.

“Mr. Strider, Mr. Egbert,” she says with a smooth smile. “How do you feel about the younger Strider’s success?”

John snorts. “He’s paying for beer from now on.”

She laughs, and the two of them instantly establish a rapport based on some serious experience in the public eye. They have a quick little Q&A about John’s occupation as a youtuber and how that relates to Dave’s film stuff and what it’s like to be dating his best friend’s brother, all of which John answers wittily, and none of which you answer at all. You like this reporter. She doesn’t ask you much.

Other celebrities arrive, including the stars of the movie, and she turns to you. “One last question. Mr. Strider, how do you feel about your brother’s success?”

She gave you the easy question, bless her. “Proud. Always have been, always will be.”

She smiles at you. “It’s always good to hear such unconditional family support. Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions.”

And then she moves on to another victim.

Inside is the kind of busy mess you usually only see in the wires inside a robot: totally incomprehensible, an utter wreck, unless you know what you’re doing, in which case it all makes sense. Of course, you have no goddamn idea what you’re doing, so you’d be fucked without the usher, who is in your opinion the greatest man you’ve ever met. He just – directs you to your seats so _well_.

Egbert is sitting on Dave’s left, and you’re sitting on his right. John is next to you, of course, with Roxy on his right, and Rose and Kanaya next to her. You’ve got seats smack in the center of the theater, and it’s _great_.

Famous people are filling in the seats around you. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are two rows in front of you. All the actors are directly in front of you, including Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson. John has his phone out and is recording, animatedly pointing out every person he recognizes as they walk through the door until you hear a gasp. “Is that – is _that_ –”

You glance around at the people entering and then –

You see him.

 _Nicolas Cage_.

John appears to be pissing himself.

He freaks out for a full three minutes on camera until conversation dies down and Dave stands, at which point he promptly shuts up and uploads the video.

Silence falls.

He doesn’t look around. He doesn’t take his gaze off the screen.

 “Gotta thank my actors, ‘course, for making this the best damn production in the history of the U.S. of A., and everyone who helped me write, direct, and produce this monstrosity. Also gotta thank my family, for never failing to be assholes of the highest degree, and my boyfriend, for being abso-fuckin-lutely perfect. I’d love to give a lengthy speech, but we all know how much I hate talking –” you snort audibly at that, and apparently there’s a good portion of the audience who agree with you, judging by the muffled laughter – “So I’m gonna cut it short. Let’s watch the fuck out of this movie.”

He sits.

“One for the ages, lil Bro,” you mutter.

“Shut it.”

But you nudge his shoulder and he grins a little at you. It’s all good.

The movie is.

The movie.

It’s beyond description, really.

You can’t tell what’s supposed to be funny and what’s just fucking stupid and what’s so stupid it’s smart and what’s so smart it’s stupid. It just – it’s a wreck. Another wires-in-a-robot wreck. Dave doesn’t laugh once, but you think it might be nerves – you glance over to see Egbert rubbing his thumb over Dave’s hand, and yeah, he’s picking up on it too. It’s Dave’s first movie, and not only did have control over the whole goddamn thing, but he broke every single tradition in the filming industry.

It’s fucking _glorious_.

And you tell him so, when the movie ends. You both stand at the same time and you grab him in a hug – not one of those lame-ass back-slapping bro hugs, either, but an actual goddamn hug.

“It was great, Davey,” you mutter.

“Thanks, Bro.”

The walk back down the red carpet is loud and bright, but your limo is waiting for you at the end of it and you slide into safety with a sigh.

Roxy gets in last, waving and grinning at fans.

“Davey, I wanna come to more events, please.”

“Got it, Roxy,” he says with a tiny grin, letting his head fall on Egbert’s shoulder.

“Is there not an after-party?” Kanaya asks.

“We’re on our way now,” Dave mutters.

“You sound overjoyed,” you comment.

“It’s an after-party at 4 in the afternoon.”

“You have a point.”

 “Will Nic Cage be there?” John asks breathlessly.

Dave nods. His shades are sliding off. Egbert reaches up and takes them, careful not to leave fingerprints on the lenses.

It’s time for them to get married.

You glance over at John, who appears to be sinking into a coma under the weight of the knowledge that he could be meeting Nic Cage.

You want to marry him. You want to put a ring on his finger. You want the stupid little gold band that always struck you as pointless and you want people to know you’re together, preferably forever. You don’t even care that it’ll make you Egbert’s son-in-law, or that if he marries Dave as well you’ll be _both_ his son-in-law and his brother-in-law and – oh that’s weird. Okay. Now you’re remembering why you put it off so long.

Thing is, you don’t think you care so much anymore.

“Dirk? You okay?” John asks.

You blink. “Yeah, why?”

“You were staring at me.”

“Maybe I just like looking at you.”

He grins. “You sure you’re not jealous?”

“Of – oh. Nic Cage. Nah, I’m not.”

Did his smile just falter? “Oh. Good.”

You slide your fingers between his. His smile comes back, but something’s wrong.

It doesn’t matter. You pull up outside some enormous hotel – a Hilton – and you all pile out.

“A Hilton? Is that where these things are normally held?” You mutter in Dave’s ear.

He shrugs. “Don’t think so, but also, I don’t care. So I said it would be ironic, and everyone thought it was great.”

“Cool.”

 John pulls you into the crowded room, and as the _entire population of the room_ cheers for Dave, he slips away into the crowd. Hunting down Nic Cage, no doubt.

Dave has his admirers and Kanaya and, by extension, Rose, has hers. Egbert seems perfectly content to trail behind Dave, a looming shadow that threatens anyone who makes Dave uncomfortable. So you loop arms with Roxy and wander around the edge of the room while Roxy tells you whose bank accounts and emails she’s hacked and what they had in there. You find out incredibly interesting things about Jennifer Aniston and Ben Stiller, none of which you ever wanted to know, and you now know Benedict Cumberbatch’s credit card number, just in case you ever need it.

The party goes by pretty fast, with Roxy giving you insider details that any magazine would pay diamonds for. The food is great, the champagne is expensive, and John is nowhere to be seen, and you’re _absolutely_ sure something’s wrong when you spot Nic Cage without John at his side.

You and Roxy search for him from your place at the edge of the party, but it’s not until the guests begin to disperse that you see him in the center of it all, next to Dave.

Maybe you’re just overreacting. They _are_ still best friends. Just because you’re an awful brother who’s not willing to brave the crowds to be by Dave’s side doesn’t mean John is the same.

Still, it’s not like him to not drag you around with him.

But hey, you can’t be attached at the hip all the time. This isn’t a _bad_ thing.

Dave waves the last couple attendees away, and once he’s settled the bill with the frazzled manager, you head out.

You swap Roxy’s arm for John’s hand.

He looks relatively pleased with this development.

Maybe you _weren’t_ overreacting. Something’s up.

He doesn’t mention anything, though, and you don’t wanna bring it up in the limo full of people. You don’t wanna take away from Dave’s success.

Dave seems to perk up around 9, and from thereon out it’s just a constant play-by-play of the afternoon, of who he met and who was there and what this person said and what that person said and John’s laughing so maybe you were overreacting but you don’t _really_ think you were but when Dave finally announces that it’s bedtime, John passes out in your arms, and you still haven’t said anything.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are some people who update twice-monthly with chapters longer than a short novel and then there's me  
> buT I love you all with an unholy passion and all of you who have commented should know that there is a 100% chance that I screenshotted your comment and saved it for later and also sent you a billion well-wishes that would've sounded like a keysmash if I went and actually replied because let's be real I can't type properly when I'm that emotional

Dave wakes you up. 

Not on purpose, you guess. But who the fuck yells down the stairs at nine in the morning? Surely not the kid  _you_ raised. He would never be that cruel. Also, he would never be up before ten. 

You burrow under the blankets and push your head into John's chest. It doesn't help. You can still hear Dave: "What'd'you mean we don't have milk? There's no way the other one went bad - wait, we didn't have another one? What was that bottle in the back, with the - iced coffee? Why do we need bottled iced coffee? Roxy can make her own damn iced coffee. All right, all right, I'll go get some." 

"Why is he so  _loud_?" John asks, voice cracking at the end. 

You shake your head, rubbing your hair against John's chest. "Obnoxious kid."

It was the wrong thing to say. You don't know why, but it was. You can feel it in the way John moves back half an inch, in the way his arms stiffen around you. He's not happy.

"Kid?" He asks casually.

You scooch back up until your face is on the same level as his. "Yeah, kid. Why?" Where is this going?

"Dave and I are the same age," he points out. "Do you think I'm a kid?"

"What?"

"Dave and I are the same age. Do you think I'm a kid?" He repeats slowly.

"No, why?"

"Are you sure? Because I'm a good few years younger than you are - the same age as your little brother."

You frown at him. "Yeah, I know. I know that  _very_ well. Remember how that was a  _huge_ problem for us when we started dating?"

That was also the wrong thing to say, apparently, because he rolls away from you and out of bed. "Yeah. I remember that."

You stand cautiously. You feel like any sudden movements might cause him to fly at you. Or to leave you. One or the other. "John?"

He pulls his shirt on. "What?"

"Is everything ok?"

He turns around. "Why are you talking like that? Like I'm a little kid about to throw a tantrum?"

You freeze. You have no idea what he's looking for, but everything you've said since you woke up has been wrong, and you're pretty sure that if you open your mouth you'll fuck up again. "I just want to know what's wrong." 

He rolls his eyes and turns away to dig out a pair of pants.

"John?"

"What?"

That's not an invitation to speak.

He walks out the door before you can even open your mouth.

 _Shit_. Shit shit shit shit shit.

You tug pants on, and a shirt as an afterthought - you know Dave doesn't care, and Egbert'd probably let it slide, but John put on a shirt, so it feels like you should too.  

But John isn't eating breakfast when you get downstairs. Nor is he conveniently waiting for you in an out-of-the-way room, ready to tell you what you're doing wrong. No, no, no, he's playing piano. Angrily.

He's done this twice. Twice, in all the years you've loved and lived with him. Both previous times, you just sat with him and waited for him to finish, but you don't think you're allowed to do that this time.

Egbert practically runs into the room. He stares at you and motions at John - no point in speaking when John's playing this loudly. You just shrug helplessly.

Roxy slips in. You don't even think she's had coffee yet, but she's wide awake and mildly alarmed.

"Johnny?" She says tentatively. You wouldn't have thought John would hear her, but hear her he does, and he shoots her a glare so friggin angry she actually takes a step back.

He goes back to his piano.

You can't do anything here.

Roxy looks hurt, though, so you grab her on your way to the kitchen and sit her down at the table. "Want coffee?"

"Iced, please," she says with a grin. 

You dig out the bottle, the indirect cause of everything that went wrong this morning, and struggle with the cap for a minute before you get it open.

"Wow, so strong, Dirky," Roxy says sarcastically. "You fought that battle and you won."

"The struggle is unending."

She snorts as you pass her a glass of the sugary iced coffee. "Thanks."

There are eggs in a frying pan, on the verge of burning. You take them. You like 'em burned; it took until John moved in for you to learn how to make them properly. You eat as you scramble a few more, with cheese and extra pepper.

They don't take long to cook. You're supposed to turn the flame down and cook 'em slow, you know that, but slow cooking has never been your specialty. Taste comes secondary to the act of eating itself, honestly, and what'd'you care about great taste if it takes twenty minutes? John cares, though, so when he cooks, he turns the flame down. For a kid who had so many problems with his dad, he picked up a lot from his old man. Makes you wonder how much of the whole "people turning into their parents" thing is genetic and how much of it is just being used to a certain standard, and one day realizing that you have to uphold that standard, your parents won't do it for you.

That fucks you up a little, so you reluctantly turn to JOHN'S PROBLEM.

You still smile a little whenever you think about him; you might've been living together for a damn long time, but that hasn't changed. He's still  _John_ , still the boy - man, really - you met 9 years ago, impulsive and a little overconfident and happy in the weirdest way and sarcastic and a piece of shit and worth spending time with. You don't know everything about him, of course - that's basically impossible - but you know a whole shitload, which makes it absolutely  _terrifying_ that you really, honestly, have no idea what's causing this. You wish you could pin it on menopause or a mid-life crisis, but he's chock full of testosterone and he's not old enough for a damn mid-life crisis. 

You pull the frying pan off the flame just before they're fully done. John says they keep cooking for a little while, which still wouldn't convince you to eat them all slimy and weird like this, but this is how John likes them, so this is how you cook them. 

Roxy gets half; the other half goes on a plate that goes with you into the living room.

Egbert's sitting in one of the armchairs. He raises an eyebrow at you. You motion him back into the kitchen. He goes. He glares a little at you, but he goes. You're not feeling much anger coming from him. Of all the father-in-laws you could've gotten, he's probably the best.

You sit on the piano bench, facing away from the piano. It's short, so there's not much room, and John's not exactly moving over to make room for you, but still. 

"Hey."

He stops playing, at least, which you consider a minor triumph on your end. 

"I made you breakfast."

He closes his eyes.

You don't know what that means.

"Hey, you know you can tell me what's up, right? I won't freak out."

He rests his head on your shoulder.

You don't know what that means, either. 

So you dig way down, deep inside yourself, where you're getting old. You're like a pear: the older you get, the softer you get. And it doesn't show much on the outside, really - you're a tough old pear. But you're damn soft on the inside.

God, if anyone's listening, this is gonna be embarrassing.

Then again, everyone here has already heard you pour your heart out, so who gives a shit?

The answer is you. You give a shit.

You take your shit back, because John depends on you not giving a shit, and start.

"You know I love you, right? And I don't know what's going on or what I'm doing wrong, but holy  _shit_ I'm willing to do just about anything to make you feel better. So could you please tell me what's up? You're the most important person in my life, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and  _god_ I don't want to lose you now. If there's anything I can do, tell me?"

Bam. Sappiest shit you've ever spewed in your life. The fact that it's all true doesn't help the sappiness factor. 

He removes his head from your shoulder and your heart speeds up to triple time. Is he gonna speak? Get up and leave?

He twists around and takes the plate of eggs out of your hand.

Ok, you didn't expect that.

He takes a bite. "This is good."

Didn't expect that, either.

"I made it the way you taught me."

"I taught you well."

"Yeah."

For half a crazy second, you wonder if he was pissed that you didn't make him eggs earlier. Maybe eggs are the key to his moods.

And then, between bites, casually, like he hasn't been trying to break the damn piano for half an hour, he says: "Dirk, are you cheating on me?"

And your whole world grinds to a halt.

It almost doesn't make sense for a minute, because the idea of  _you_ +  _infidelity_ doesn't equal jack shit. 

And then your brain catches the fuck up, just in time to hear a stuttering "W-what?" make its way out of your mouth. 

John just keeps eating.

It makes sense to you, now - the whole emotionless eating thing. John'll sob his eyes out over the death of his favorite character, but he's not big on real-life tragedies. He holds himself away from it, like maybe it won't affect him if he doesn't give it the proper emotional payment.

"John, I'm not cheating on you," you say softly. "I'm not, I swear I'm not." 

He keeps eating. 

"John, I'm yours, forever. The rest of my life. Hell, if there's a life after this, I'll be with you there too." You tentatively reach out and brush your fingers through his hair. He's only 27, and his hair is still jet black, but you want to be there when it turns grey. "I'm yours, and I swear on my life that if there ever comes a time when that stops being true, I'll tell you. You don't have to worry about me cheating on you."

"So you're not cheating on me with Roxy?"

 _That_ makes you laugh. Probably the wrong thing to do, but jesus christ, the day you cheat on John with Roxy will be the day the world ends. "Roxy's my best friend. And you're my boyfriend. My boyfriend of - what - nine years? Eight? Nine? John - I'm  _yours_. Yours, yours, yours, all yours." You wrap your arm around his stomach and kiss his hair. He rests his plate on your arm. It's not a particularly steady place, but whatever.

"You've been disappearing for hours on end."

Your stomach drops. He's right about that - it took you a while to find the ring, the ring that's currently sitting upstairs in your room, ready and waiting to dispel all suspicions. But - now wouldn't be the right time. You need John to know that you love him, regardless of marital status, and you don't want him to say yes just because he's relieved you're not cheating. "Can't tell you about those, not yet. Soon, though. Soon as Dave gets his shit together."

He glances up at me curiously, but lets it drop. "And my age isn't off-putting?"

You almost laugh at the words "off-putting" coming out of his mouth - he's really starting to sound like his dad. It's a little awkward. But you feel like now isn't the time to tell him that. "No. No, it's not." You tug him closer to me. "Is this about me calling Dave a kid?"

"Kinda."

"Dave's my little brother. The day I start thinking of him as anything but a kid is the day I start thinking of myself as old. You - you're different. I didn't meet you until you were already an adult. I definitely didn't raise you. The fact that you're technically the same age is totally irrelevant."

He relaxes a little. "You're sure?"

"More sure than I've ever been in my entire life."

He smiles. 

And then he giggles.

And then he's laughing, laughing like you've just said the funniest thing in the world, and you're laughing because he's laughing and he's snorting and it's fucking  _dumb_ and Rose and Kanaya are coming down the stairs and Rose is giving you a wry smile like she knows  _exactly_ what happened and Kanaya looks confused as all hell and Dave kicks the front door open, swinging a gallon of milk from one hand, mouth open to yell that he's the hero and he's here just in time for us all to have a proper breakfast with milk but you cut him off, you and John silence him pretty fuckin nicely, and he looks more confused than Kanaya.

"You didn't -" He hisses as he waggles his fingers at you. You shake your head. You'll have to pull him aside, soon. You want your boyfriend to be your fiancé. You want him to be your husband. You want to wear a goddamn stupid meaningless gold ring on your finger until you're dead and you want John to know that he was the one who put it there, and you want to look at a copy of the same goddamn stupid meaningless gold ring on John's finger and know that you were the first one to put it in its place, that you wear the matching one. You wanna do the sappiest thing possible and get married, for fuck's sake. 

You must be getting old - you've never been this friggin romantic in your life - but you bury your face in John's hair and honestly, you don't think you give a shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've commissioned my friend to draw me a pear with bro shades but if any of you feel the need to draw this yourself you should submit it to me at youreyestheyglow.tumblr.com/submit/ because bro pear is my new favorite character
> 
> EDIT: worstchrist/pixiepique [DID THE THING](http://worstchrist.tumblr.com/post/109130639321/i-made-the-shittiest-thing-i-could-think-of-for)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave and Dirk plan out their proposals. I promise at least one will be cheesy as fuck. Gotta wait for next chapter for that, though. Sorry :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN OVER A MONTH DEAR GOD I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T REALIZE  
> I also apologize for falling into toumaki hell that's really been a huge part of the problem tbh

Kanaya saved you, in the end. 

She was the one who suggested that Egbert and John visit her workplace; she was taking Rose and Roxy, and considering the Egbert family focus on fashion, perhaps they would like to go too?

Maybe it would be more accurate to say Rose saved you. The smirk she shot you as she grabbed John's arm and told him it would be fun, please save her, she needed someone who wasn't a total fashion nerd - she knew. She knew exactly what was going on. 

John's glare could melt steel. "And you can't come why?"

You shrug. "Well, Dave's not going. Brother bonding time is important."

He narrows his eyes at you. "This is about The Thing. The Thing you won't tell me about."

"Yup."

"Can't you and Dave just go sit in a corner for three minutes and work things out?"

"Nope."

"There's no way you can do this that doesn't involve me being sent to Fashion Hell."

"Fashion Heaven, really, but -"

"John!" Rose yells up the stairs. "Let's go!"

He scowls. "Notice that she doesn't ask if I'm coming. I have no choice."

"No you don't," You agree cheerfully, grabbing his hand and pulling him downstairs. 

You pass him off to Rose with a salute. She smirks and salutes right back. John just glares. It's kinda cute. 

Dave and you wave as they drive off, standing on the porch and watching until they turn the corner. 

And then it's inside, inside, get the fuck inside, do you have the thing, yeah it's right here, jesus fuck look at this thing, no give it back you're not allowed to hold it you might drop it. 

You end up sitting in a corner. 

"So, like, okay, how are we doing this?" Dave whispers. "Are we both gonna propose at the same time? That would probably be weird, I feel like James wouldn't want to concentrate on his proposal and John's proposal at the same time, and if John turns you down I wanna see - oh shit you just turned green it's cool Bro John is literally head over heels not gonna lie it's kinda funny but he won't say no he'll probably cry you don't even have to worry about it, really, I'm serious, ok? But like for real, we can't do it at the same time but we can't go one after the other it would be distracting but we can't do it on totally separate days it'll seem weird so like -"

"Dave."

"Yeah?"

"What the everloving fuck is going on."

"Huh?"

You stare at him. Your baby brother. The kid you raised, about to propose to a guy older than you are, while you're about to propose to a kid his age. "This is _weird_." You. About to propose. Not being proposed to, which has actually happened before, but choosing, of your own volition, to get _married_. Marriage. Tying yourself to someone else for _life_. Unless you divorce, which is a lot of messy paperwork. You’re literally offering half your shit to another person. Half of it. What’s yours is his and what’s his is yours. You’ll be sharing your house, permanently, without the option of just neatly kicking John out and severing all ties if necessary. And your brother is about to do the same damn thing. You’re both about to get _married_. Didn’t you decide, at some point, that marriage was totally unnecessary? That you could easily like a dude without marrying him? That it was capitalist bullshit? That was definitely a thing you thought about, at some point.

"What?"

"I…" You grope for words. "Just… me and John… and you and Egbert…" Shit, you’re both chaining yourselves to someone else for _no reason_.

"Oh no, oh no." He whips his shades off to treat you to a full dose of Red-Eyed Seriousness. "You're not about to have a midlife crisis. You're supposed to be helping me. I'm about to propose to the love of my life and you wanna have a friggin identity crisis or whatever? You can pull that shit later. We have a dual goddamn proposal to plan and if I have to plan it myself it's gonna end up involving shitty cartoon characters named Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff and James'll agree to marry me just so he can divorce me. Do you want that? Do you? Do you? The answer had better be no. Why are you laughing this isn't funny?"

You pull him into a hug. "You're a good little brother." 

You're gonna get married and be goddamned happy about it. 

You're marrying John, after all. Not just some guy. And it’s not like you haven’t thought this through. And you’re perfectly sure of your choices whenever John himself is around, it’s just – you. Your doubts. Your problems. All surfacing at once. You make porn for a living, does he really want –

No, no, no, Dave’s right. You can handle all crises later. 

You picture John, John’s face, his stupid buckteeth, glaring at you from across the room because you stepped over the tripwire he put in the kitchen doorway, and everything’s okay.

"I try. Anyway. Thoughts? Ideas? Anything?" 

You rub your eyes. "Um. Dinner at a nice restaurant? See if we can get a private table? It won't be so public and when Roxy takes pictures we'll be all dressed up instead of in sweats."

He fiddles with the tiny black box in his hands. "Sounds good. Who goes first? How are we doing this?"

"You go first. Let Egbert get engaged before his kid."

"Okay, yeah, I guess, but –"

"Don't worry about me, got it?"

He makes a face. "I don't wanna get down on my knee, the floor'll be dirty.”

“You’re worried about the floor?”

“No, I’m worried about my suit. Can’t get the suit dirty. Shit’s gotta stay clean. James won’t marry someone with dirty-ass knees.”

You ruffle his hair. “Yes, he will. You still wear your old record shirt around the house, don’t you?”

He grins. “Yeah. Still, though. Wanna make a good impression.”

“A good impression? How long have you been living with him now?”

He turns red. “Still.”

“Don’t go traditional, then. Drop the ring in his drink or something.”

He looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. “Do you know how much this thing _cost_?”

You snort. “No, and I don’t wanna. Don’t drop it in his drink then. Do something cool.”

“ _Do something cool_ ,” he mutters. “Ah yes. I’ll freeze it and hand him the block of ice. He can melt it with the heat of his love for me.”

“That would be pretty cool, honestly. All symbolic and shit.”

“You’re _useless_.”

“I know. See, I was thinking of sticking the ring in a smuppet and –”

He holds up a hand. “I swear on my life if you finish that sentence I will personally destroy your entire empire.”

“Got it.”

“Maybe we should find a restaurant.”

“The nicer it is, the harder it’ll be to get a reservation within the next few days.”

Dave digs his wallet out of his pocket and shows me three platinum credit cards. “Will it really?”

“That’s not all that impressive, you know. I’ve got about as much as you do.”

“Not the point. Point is I’ve got enough to get us a reservation.”

As it turns out, he is very, very wrong.

It takes an hour and a half to find a restaurant with a private room open the day after tomorrow. Dave’s only just hung up when Rose kicks the door open.

John sulks in behind her.

You grin widely at him. “How was it?”

“ _Death_.”

“I do not think I will bring him anywhere ever again,” Kanaya comments. “He is about as fashion-minded as a gnat.”

“I know,” you say cheerfully.

John stands over you. “I hope you figured something out.”

Dave leaps up. “We’re going out to dinner the day after tomorrow, guys! It’s gonna be really fun!”

Egbert frowns. “Why are you talking like you’re trying to sell me a starving piranha?”

“I’m not! It’s really going to be fun!”

You stand and wrap an arm around Dave’s shoulders. “Dave was on the phone for a while, trying to get that reservation. I think it tired him out a little, right?”

He makes little guns with his fingers and points them at you. “Right you are, Bro, right you are.”

Egbert narrows his eyes at the two of you in an expression that reminds you way too much of his son. “What’s going on?”

John sighs. “There’s A Thing, dad. A Thing that they can’t tell us about.”

“A thing they can’t tell us about.”

“Right you are, dad, right you are.”

Kanaya huffs. “If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. I was unable to get it done at work, thanks to John’s shenanigans.” She kisses Rose on the cheek and marches upstairs.

“What’d you do?” You ask.

He blushes and shuffles his feet. “I…”

“He was like a child who didn’t want to go shopping,” Rose informs me. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d thrown a tantrum.”

He only looks mildly ashamed.

Roxy throws an arm around his shoulders. “He’s not a fan of fashion, I think it tired him out.”

He makes little guns out of his fingers and points them at her. “Right you are, Rox, right you are.”

 

You and Dave spend the entire next day throwing furtive glances at each other whenever you’re in the room.

Rose just smirks at everyone like she’s friggin Natalie Dormer.

If she wasn’t so good at keeping secrets, you’d have tied her up and stuck her in a closet by now. Can’t let her talk.

John tries to make you give something away. He seduces you and asks while you’re balls deep in his ass. You kiss him until he gives up. At least he falls asleep happy that night.

Dave stumbles down for breakfast the morning of the dinner looking like he didn’t sleep at all. Even his aviators can’t hide those circles under his eyes.

Egbert actually looks worried. You’d love to tell him it’s just a temporary case of mild anxiety, but he’d probably ask what David was anxious over, was there anything he could do to help, maybe he should make David some comfort food, and you feel like that’s all unnecessary. You suggest a movie so Dave can fall asleep to it. John picks _The Lion King_. Dave leads everyone in a sing-along for each song and doesn’t sleep at all.

It’s not that _The Lion King_ was a better pick-me-up than a nap, but _The Lion King_ was a better pick-me-up than an actual nap. Between the movie and 3 cups of coffee, Dave almost looks like he’s ready to propose.

John grins at you when you put on your suit. “Betcha thought you’d only have to wear that once, huh.”

You grimace. “I knew I’d have to wear it again. Wasn’t happy about it, though.”

He places his hands on your chest. “You look great in it, Dirk.”

You kiss his nose. “Thank you. You look perfect, too.”

He flutters his eyelashes at you. “So sweet. Shall we go?”

You offer him your arm, and the two of you walk downstairs arm in arm. Dave awaits you, wearing his suit like armor. Egbert joins you a few seconds later. Roxy and Rose tumble down the stairs in a mess of dresses and jewelry. Kanaya follows calmly, looking absolutely perfect in a red dress, like she’s trying to outshine the rest of you. Damn. She’s gonna show you up. Maybe you’ll sit at the opposite end of the table. This is just gonna be a wreck, otherwise.

Dave nods at you like you’re about to run out into war.

You nod back at him.

The two of you are gonna do fine. Just fine. It’s just a proposal. Nothing to worry about. No biggie.

John grins at you when he stuffs himself into the seat next to you.

He takes your hand as Egbert starts up the car.

You’re gonna be fine. Just fine.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The proposals!

It's not that the ride to the restaurant was awkward, but it was awkward. 

You had a ring in your pocket and Dave had a ring in his pocket and you  _know_ both of you were terrified that Roxy would look over and say "HA! Do you have a ring in your pocket or are you just excited to see me?" And that would've been the end of everything. 

So you sat there quietly and Dave rambled a lot and used words like  _efficacious_  and this is exactly why he needs to propose first - the sooner he gets it done and over with, the better.

Dave said  _sternutation._

The two of you should've gone with Rose and Kanaya in their car. It was fucking ridiculous. 

But you make it to the restaurant just fine, and you attract plenty of attention, which makes both Dave and Roxy happy - although Roxy shows it more - and get seated quickly enough. 

You managed to get one of those private rooms, usually reserved for parties. But hey. You're all at least a little rich here, you deserve a party room, right? Shit, you sound like a republican. 

The table is a little big, but the ladies give each of their bags a chair of its own, so things work out. Dave is at one head of the table, with Egbert to his left. Kanaya is next to Egbert, Rose is next to Kanaya, Roxy is at the other head of the table, you're next to Roxy, and John is on your left. You half wish you were next to Dave. You also wish you were nowhere near him. At least Roxy'll get a good picture when Dave proposes. And if Dave is gonna get down on one knee, at least he won't have any other chairs to push out of the way. 

Dave is as white as a sheet. 

Christ almighty.

You hope he's got a plan. 

"Appetizers?" He offers as you all stare down the menu. "They've got a cool cheese platter."

A -

What?

Does Dave even  _like_ cheese?

Well, he doesn't  _dislike_ cheese, but -

Roxy agrees enthusiastically.

Rose shoots you a questioning look. 

You've got no goddamn idea what he's doing either, so you just shrug as best you can without alerting anyone else to the fact that you're shrugging. She'll have to wait and see like all the rest of us.

You really don't think Dave's reading the menu anymore.

He'd better be ready to order, or he's gonna look more suspicious than he already does.

"Yo, Dave, did you see the chicken marsala? It looks damn good."

He nods. "Chicken marsala? Yeah, yeah, that's what I'm getting."

"Cool." You keep your eyes glued to the menu. You need to worry about your food and about Dave. Can't worry about John yet. Can't do it.

The steak looks good. You've always been a steak-and-potatoes kinda guy. Actually, you're more of a ramen guy, but the point is, steak and potatoes is a tried-and-true dish that you won't want to puke up if your stomach starts flipping around. 

What's that acronym you used to quote at Dave? That list of foods to eat when nauseous... BR... bread, rice... fuck. You don't even remember it. Was soup in there? You have no idea. Your memory is going downhill. Shit, maybe it's not John's age you should be worried about, but  _yours_. You're getting old. Shit, you've been worrying about how awkward it is for you to marry him - what if he doesn't want to marry you? You're -

"Bro? Gonna order or just sit there?"

"Hmm? Chicken marsala, please and thanks."

You pass the waitress your menu. Didn't you just decide to order the steak? Fuck. Maybe you should start worrying about Dave again. 

Dave gets up abruptly as the waitress leaves. "Gotta pee, be right back," he throws out as he turns and leaves.

Okay, that did the trick. You're worried about Dave again. 

Rose is giving you a very concerned look, now. 

Maybe it's just stage fright. Like how people always have to pee before they get on stage.

Oh god, now you have to pee. 

You shut that impulse down. You've got bigger things to worry about. Like your brother, who is taking much longer than necessary.

Should you check on him? 

You notice Egbert glancing towards the doorway. 

You can't let him go check on Dave. He could just be shitting, but he could also be having a minor breakdown, and seeing Egbert won't help that.

You're ready to stand up when Dave appears in the doorway. 

He looks a billion times better.

He even manages to start up a conversation. 

John laughs at something Roxy said and leans towards you. "You ok?" He whispers.

"Yup."

He glances up at you.

You push your shades up the bridge of your nose.

He snorts. 

You know you look like an idiot. Everyone else here looks great. Even Dave's aviators look all right. But you - your anime shades just are  _not_ appropriate. 

He's still looking at you with that look on his face, the one where his eyes get all sparkly and he smushes up his lips because he's trying not to smile.

You give in and take off your shades.

He grins. "There's my man."

He's so cute.

The waitress comes in with the appetizer. Just one. Apparently all you ordered was the cheese plate.

She hands it to Dave.

Why isn't she putting it on the table?

Dave turns towards Egbert. 

He takes his shades off. Smoothly, too, even while holding the cheese plate in one hand.

You can see a black square in the middle of the plate.

No.

No, that's not. That's not what you think it is.

There is no way in all  _hell_ that that's what you think it is. 

Egbert looks just as confused as you feel.

Dear god.

"I know this proposal is a little cheesy, but I figured it would be cheesier if I did it the old fashioned way." He opens the little velvet box one-handed. "James, will you marry me?"

Oh my  _god._

Oh my god. Oh my god. He did not just propose with a  _pun_.

Egbert puts his face in his hands.

You can see the blood draining out of Dave's face.

But Egbert nods. "Yes. Yes. David - that was the cheesiest damn thing you could have  _ever_ done."

Dave grins. "I know."

Dave sets the plate on the table and takes the ring out of the box.

You shove your hand into your pocket. Can you open the box without taking it out? Yes, yes you can.

Dave slips the ring onto Egbert's finger.

He and Egbert kiss. 

It's very sweet.

You move the ring from your right hand to your left.

Roxy's taking pictures. Rose is smiling. Kanaya looks like she might be wiping her eyes. Dave and Egbert are staring into each other's eyes like they're posing for the camera. 

And John, John is looking at them - wishfully? 

"What's up?"

He glances at you. "This is the big thing you couldn't tell me?"

You make a face. "Pretty much."

"Mm."

"Why?"

"Nothing."

You take his hand. "If you say so."

He squints at you as he raises your intertwined hands. "What's in -"

You do your best to untangle your hands without dropping the ring.

His eyes get so big you almost start making comparisons to dinner plates. 

You pluck the ring from his hand and take his left hand in yours. "John, will you marry me?"

You think he might be on the verge of crying. 

And then he's nodding, frantically nodding, and you're sliding the ring on his finger and you're vaguely aware of a camera flash but John is throwing himself on you, he's in your lap, and he's  _definitely_ crying, but he's kissing you, and his hands are on your face and you can feel the cold band of the ring against your cheek and it'll warm up soon enough, seeing as it's on John's finger.

And that's the second reason why Dave had to propose first. Egbert's congratulating John, congratulating you, running back to Dave, playing with the ring on his finger. If you'd proposed first, Egbert would've been too busy talking to you for Dave to propose.

Eventually, John wipes his eyes and moves back into his chair -  _eventually_   meaning  _when the food comes_  - and Egbert takes his seat next to Dave.

Dave grins at you.

You both did just fine. 

Dave holds Egbert's hand the whole ride home. 

Not that you and John are much better - if it weren't for the seatbelts, he'd be sitting on you.

"So are you all going to wear white? Or all black? Or two wear black and two -"

"What?" Dave shrieks as Rose accosts him.

"Listen, I've got a girlfriend who can handmake your goddamn suits and it's the perfect chance for me to wear the dress that's been in my closet for three months -"

" _What_ -"

"Dave, were you not planning on actually getting married? That's the next step. You know that, right?" Roxy asks, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

"I - yeah - but -"

"Mr. Strider and I will probably end up in black, my son will wear white, and David will, presumably, wear red."

Kanaya nods appreciatively at Egbert. "Perfect, thank you. It would probably be best to avoid green, red, white, and black -"

"Why green?" John asks.

"Because if you put green next to Dave's suit, it would look like Christmas."

"Ah."

"My dress is yellow, perfect -" Rose murmurs. 

"Maybe no pink, either - there are too many shades that clash with red..."

John tugs on your hand.

You frown at him.

He tugs a little harder and nods towards the stairs.

Kanaya doesn't need you here. She'll do just fine without you.

You follow John upstairs.

He pulls you into his room and he's kissing you before you even get the door shut, pulling away just to grin at you before pressing his mouth against yours again.

"I love you, so much, you know that, right?" You murmur as he tugs you towards the bed.

He nods, grinning so hard you worry he might pull a muscle. 

You both topple into bed, John whining in frustration whenever you have to take your hands off each other to remove clothing, you holding your breath to stay quiet whenever your skin comes into contact with his. John's holding the lube and you've got the condoms and one of you is fingering him open - you'll be perfectly honest, it might be both of you - but then he's pushing you backwards and he's on top of you, riding you as slow as he can, trying to be quiet, both of you too well aware that everyone's still awake. 

He's holding your hand, and it's a little awkward and wrists probably aren't meant to bend like that, but you can feel the ring there. You can feel it and he knows you can and you reach up with your free hand and brush his hair away from his face and he leans into it, eyes flickering shut, and you can't friggin believe you got this lucky. 

He leans down to kiss you and can't do it, and you sit up and kiss him instead. It's easier for you to hold hands like this, and you can help him out a bit now that you're not lying down, so you stay there, facing each other, staring into each other's eyes like the saps you are until he starts clenching up around you, breath coming in gasps, biting his hand to stay quiet as his whole face screws up in pleasure - and the move is so  _him_ , so  _John_ , you squeeze his hand and come, pushing your face into his shoulder and squeezing your eyes shut and focusing on staying as quiet as you can. 

John kisses you as soon as you pick your head up. "I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you."

"I love you too, John. So friggin much."

He grins. "You're so romantic."

"I know."

He's in your lap and laughing at you and wearing your ring on his finger and - 

Lucky. You're so, so lucky. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Sternutation" is the act of sneezing, in case any of you were curious.


	7. Epilogue

Your heart was beating through your chest, irregular and loud. You were shaking. You couldn't quite feel your fingers. Your head felt foggy. This - you swore this would never happen. Never had reason to believe it would. Told yourself it never could.

Your only consolation was that Egbert was in the same state as you were. You guessed it said a lot, that you could pick up on the tiny tremors in his hands when he straightened his cuffs, and the way he stood - stiff and uptight. He never thought this would happen either.

And neither of you ever,  _ever_ thought it would happen like this. It - wasn't as traditional as it could've been. 

First of all, it was a double wedding, so neither of you really got your own time to shine - not that you minded, honestly, and you don't think Egbert did either. And it's not like you had to fit double the guests in the church. There were only two families involved.

Neither John nor Dave had a parent or guardian to walk them down the aisle. Honestly, you don't think either of them cared, but Egbert probably would've wanted to give John away. Instead, John and Dave walked each other down the aisle. 

Dave wore his red suit, as Egbert predicted. He nearly went for white - changed his mind thirteen different times in the week leading up to today. You found him the night before the wedding, sitting on the floor doing eenie-meenie-miney-mo in front of the two suits. It was kinda cute, kinda disturbing. He chose red in the end.

The guest list was relatively short; neither the Striders nor the Egberts have a large family.

But you were standing up there, in a tux, in front of a priest for Christ's sake, and the wedding march was playing. That's way more traditional than you ever thought you'd ever get.

You stopped breathing when John came out. 

He had his arm linked with your brother's, which kinda made things weird, and the two of them were fighting back laughter as they headed slowly down the aisle - but that was John. It was John. Your John.

You weren't wearing your shades, and he grinned when he met your eyes. He said he wanted to see your eyes in his wedding pictures. You think you gave in with better grace than Dave did.

John's hair was actually slicked back a little - it wasn't its usual mess, anyway. His eyes were gleaming.

And then he and Dave nodded at each other, barely maintaining their serious expressions, and your brother turned towards Egbert and your fiancé turned towards you and -

For years afterward, people ask you what your wedding was like. You suppose it's because of the family situation and the fact that Dave is famous. They ask for details, ask about the ceremony, the reception, your vows. You pull out pictures for them, haul out the videos, and they sigh and coo over everything. 

Until the day you die, you'll have to reconstruct this from pictures and videos. It was a blur when it happened, and it's a blur forever after.

The only part you remember, with caribbean-ocean clarity, is the part where the priest said -

"Do you, John Egbert, take Dirk Strider to be your lawfully wedded husband?" 

And John sparkled at you and said, "I do."

And then -

"And do you, Dirk Strider, take John Egbert to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

And in the pictures - the ones taken at the right angle - you can see the happiness in your eyes when you say "I do."

You remember kissing John. You remember cheers. Whoops from Roxy and Rose. You remember Dave waving his hand in your face, ring finger encircled in gold. The ride to the reception is a blur. The reception - apparently everyone who was there remembers it. Kanaya's eyes get misty when she talks about the outfits she saw. You remember John, right by your side, always by your side, dancing with you, eating with you, shoving cake in your face. And all of it is a blur, all of it is smeared across your memory like a fingerprint on a glass window. 

On your tenth anniversary, you take out the videos. You and John go through the pictures. John mentions how weird it is to see Rose and Kanaya without rings on their fingers - laughs at how quickly he got used to seeing that little gold band on their ring fingers. 

You break out a bottle of champagne - not your favorite, but it's traditional. And John's gained a taste for it. You celebrate ten years. 

You fall asleep with your face buried in John's hair, of course, with the sound of a muffled, tired " _Love you, Dirk,_ " sitting in your ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much to all of you who commented, or left kudos, or patiently waited weeks for a single short chapter. You all kept me going, and I love you all.  
> I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope it lived up to all your expectations! <3


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